


i'm not calling you a liar

by hestia_crane



Category: The Haunting of Bly Manor (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Fix-It, Fluff, Possession, Sharing a Body
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 07:40:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26968393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hestia_crane/pseuds/hestia_crane
Summary: Here’s the thing about all of that sleeping and waking and walking: Viola is starting to think that maybe she hasn’t really woken in a long time.(Or: How Dani learned to stop worrying and love the murderous ghost inside)
Relationships: Dani Clayton/Jamie
Comments: 55
Kudos: 773





	i'm not calling you a liar

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I've done this. Canon compliant until let's say the last 30 minutes of the final episode? No lesbians were harmed in the production of this work.

i.

Much has been said about the rhythms of daily life, its unceasingly cyclical nature. Far less accurate information remains about the rhythms of death. In Viola’s experience, her time beyond life is fragmented, recursive in way that she found utterly sickening.

Viola had become- well, accustomed was too strong a word, resigned too desperate- to a certain circumscribed facsimile of a life well before she had actually died. Her circle growing smaller and smaller in death had been barely noticeable, at first. It was not until the final betrayal, when her own husband consigned her to the watery depths of pond, that she was consumed with rage.

Though life had escaped her for many years, she found herself more regular in death, never once losing her way. Her quest was clear, to return to the family that had abandoned her, to retake her rightful place in her rightful home. She bided her time in a sickroom of her own devising, building her strength through sleep, until she woke to walk, to return. But though Viola made it back to her home, to her room, it was never quite the respite she envisioned. So she would return, overextended, to try again. Isabel would be there next time. She must be, since how far could a young girl go without her mother?

And so she went on, sleeping, waking, walking. Just like in life, only far more wet. Viola had always hated the damp.

Time slipped by in a way she knew not of, and memories were locked away deep within herself, until only her unceasing rage remained. Only her rage and her mission.

If each time she woke, it was less mental and more physical, who was to notice? Viola had been a shadow of herself for longer than she had ever been alive.

She drifted for a long time, protected beneath the long worn smooth surface. But then, all at once, it was interrupted by an invocation, one that Viola had almost forgotten. Her living eyes opened; her torpor shattered; her ire rendered in vivid technicolor. The screaming nothingness replaced by an unceasing pounding, just beyond Viola’s awareness. The rush of blood, the frantic drum of a beating heart. She was back.

ii.

Still, old habits are hard to break. And so for a long time after her abrupt return to life, she slept.

iii.

Dani was stronger than anyone really gave her credit for, Jamie thought. They all were, those survivors of Bly Manor. They didn’t speak about it, not really, instead choosing to bend their words, to speak around the traumatic time. It was enough for now to attempt to- not forget, exactly- but to refuse to let the next chapter in their life be defined by the past. 

As they traveled together, Jamie was surprised by how alike she and Dani could be, in utterly unexpected ways. They drove across America with the maximum of bickering but a minimum of actual argument, which was unprecedented in Jamie’s experience. They were both so excited to see new things, to go somewhere new, totally divorced from their past. Dani had never known much about plants before, but she listened appreciatively to Jamie’s categorizing of trees and flowers as they walked down each new street. She even enabled her, stealing plants or seemingly materializing them out of thin air, until they fully populated the backseat of their car.

They hadn’t intended to set down roots, not really, but by the time they had rolled into Vermont, they had been ready to slow down. Months of continuous travel had them ready to set up a home base, if only for a short while. The flower shop had come to them unexpectedly. The restaurant they visited for their first lunch had been directly across the street from an empty shopfront, all windows. It was just off of a charming main street, and appeared to be, after an impromptu afternoon showing, the perfect space for rent. Henry had been more than generous with their severance pay, after all they had endured, and besides, the rent was beyond reasonable. It was, as Jamie admitted quietly to Dani that night, a bit of a dream come true.

And so, within a week, Dani and Jamie went from permanent wanderers to being installed in a shopfront and in a comfortable apartment that was already spilling over with the plants that they had acquired. In two weeks, the sign went up, and the rest was history.

vi.

Habits are hard to break, but Viola was nothing if not strong willed. It was how God had made her, as her beloved, accursed sister had always said. Sleeping within a living body was a greater rest than Viola had known in years, and she felt herself come back, bit by helpless bit.

And so, sooner, rather than later, Viola began to break through.

With all of that sleeping, it only made sense that it would first be in dreams. Viola found herself a caricature, still dripping wet, dragging a surprisingly heavy person by the throat. Just like old times, she thought, not entirely without fondness, before noticing the background. It was blurry, disjointed, in a way unfamiliar to her from death. Yet it was also familiar, as if from another life.

“ _Oh_ ,” said Viola, abruptly dropping the screaming body. “A dream!”

She felt for her face, and found it accounted for. Smiling, she looked down at her dress, smoothing down the brilliant fabric, finding it finally dry. The body on the floor was all eyes and heaving breaths, but at least the screaming had abated.

“Now that’s much better. I’ve never much cared for mythology, and for ghost stories even less. A hundred year stint in an inferior pond was too much to be borne,” Viola said. “Now, who are you?”

The girl continued to gape.

“’You, me, us’?” Viola prompted. “Ring any bells?”

The dream swirled and shifted, and they found themselves on a busy street. Carriages the likes of which Viola had never seen before whipped past them, illuminated brightly. _Cars,_ Viola noted faintly, _headlights._ The vocabulary slotted neatly into her mind.

The girl startled, staring at a point beyond her shoulder, and threatened to scream again.

“ _Eddie!”_ she yelled.

“Begone,” Viola said, turning on the apparition with the glowing eyes.

The vision disappeared, shimmering off in a decidedly embarrassed manner, and the locale shifted back to the manor. Viola focused, then smirked.

“It’s more polite to introduce yourself, but really Dani, why make trouble? That unfortunate young man is well in the past. It’s time to focus on the future- _our_ ”

v.

The dream abruptly cut off, as Dani came crashing into consciousness to Jaime jostling her arm.

“Come on now, it’s only me. Just me,” she says softly. “What’s all this about now?”

Dani’s eyes blink open for a moment, uncommonly dark, before shifting back. She claws closer to Jamie, trying to get her breathing in check.

“A nightmare?” she asks, as Dani nodded furiously into her shoulder. Jamie strokes the nape of her neck, in soothing circles. They had gotten a lot of practice in comfort, both giving and receiving, in the endless days and weeks following their escape from the manor.

“It was _her_ ,” Dani says in a hiccuping breath.

“It’s okay,” Jamie whispers. “You’re you, all right, it’s still you. I’d know you anywhere.”

Slowly, shudderingly, Dani feels her breathing slow to match Jamie’s, felt her eyes begin to close. In the depth of the night, they curl deeper into each other, and Dani finally manages to slip into a dreamless sleep.

vi.

Dani was a still sleeper generally, which made her recent nighttime thrashing all the more noticeable. Jamie started to wake up from her fluttering kicks, and impassioned, if difficult to follow, diatribes about collecting payment and useless husbands. There was also an ongoing saga of advice to a young, nameless child. Jamie noticed all of this, especially the bruises on her legs from the constant violence, but she filed it away without mentioning it to the waking Dani. She bore it all with what she liked to think of as a certain stoic silence.

Because the fact of the matter was, Dani had started to get better. She had stopped startling like a frightened rabbit at her reflection, and spent far less time sneaking wary looks into pools of water. Most excitingly of all, she had started talking about the future. In the most vague of ways, but still. It never failed to give Jamie a quiet thrill to hear her talk about the next week, the next month, the next year.

Jamie knows that these are small improvements, and that Dani is still petrified on a level she cannot understand. She holds so much within herself, pushing it down and twisting it around her in increasingly incomparable ways. As much as Jamie is ready to fight her monsters for her, she knows Dani is perfectly capable of it. But Dani is also so scared of hurting her, terrified of being taken over by an invisible monster and turned into a weapon. Jamie never challenges her, but she also could never agree, because she knows how strong Dani is. Even afraid, maybe especially afraid, she never backs down from protecting the people she loves. Besides, Jamie could never fear Dani, not even if her hands were around her throat. She knows her too well.

Even during her worst nightmares, Dani never goes for Jamie’s throat. Only her own.

vii.

Thwarted in her attempts at direct communication, Viola continues to try to extend her control in other ways. She tends to take over the body in dreams, practicing for a day when she can fully break through to Dani’s waking state. She also uses her meager influence to modify some of Dani’s visions. These terrible blank faced dripping ladies simply must go. It’s bad for morale. 

viii.

“I miss the kids,” Dani says, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Okay,” says Jamie, focused on detangling the roots of two conjoined plants.

“Miles and Flora,” she insists, staring into the middle distance.

  
“I know the kids, Poppins,” Jamie says, lowering the plants to the table. “I miss them too. Let’s call Henry soon then?”

“I want to see them,” Dani says vaguely, staring out the window at the mother crossing the street with her two children. “I just… all of a sudden I miss them so much.”

Jamie is already crossing the room, taking Dani’s hands in hers. “Those little gremlins? We can see them whenever you like, you know that.”

She blinks rapidly, shaking her head. “You’re right, you’re right. I don’t know what it is, it’s just- I see those kids walk by on the street, and I miss them so deeply. It’s so odd.”

“It’s not that odd, you know,” Jamie says, giving her hands a comforting squeeze. “You were a teacher before, and then you were Poppins. Didn’t you know? You like to work with children.”

“I guess you’re right,” Dani says, cocking her head, as if liking children has just occurred to her.

“And you’re good with them!” she insists. “The plants are like babies to me, but even I will admit they’re not human children.”

“That’s big of you,” Dani says with a smile.

“Thank you,” Jamie agrees. “I love having you here, but I can spare you for a while in the afternoons or the evenings. You could do a bit of babysitting. I know the neighbors down the way are looking for someone.”

“Now, how on earth do you know that?” Dani asks, leaning in.

“They keep asking me,” she replies, “on account of me being an upstanding citizen. I always tell them I’m just terribly busy with the store. But perhaps next time I’ll offer the services of my beautiful assistant.”

“Oh, and who would this beautiful assistant be? Have I met her?” Dani asks smiling, leaning in further to demand a kiss.

“You, you fool,” Jamie says, peering out the window before kissing her deeply. Then, as swiftly as she started it, Jamie turns away, striding briskly over to her plant predicament.

“Now that you’re all sorted, miss, I’ve got bigger matters to attend to,” she says, diving back into the plants.

viii.

Being a florist meant working a frankly uncomfortable amount of weddings. After all their history, one would think that funerals would be more disconcerting, but those were simple, and rarely asked for customizations. It was enough, Dani and Jamie had quickly found, to simply offer a few options to choose blindly from. Not so for the brides and their mothers, and their future mothers-in-law, and their best friends. They tended to have an uncomfortable level of detail in their wedding vision, a specificity that was at once taxing and yet also constantly evolving.

Jamie had learned to just let them wear themselves out with infighting, and to keep a very basic arrangement on hand for emergencies. For Dani, who had to deal with the constant barrage of updates from the brides and their entourages, wedding accounts drove her without fail out of her mind. The very mention of Lady Diana or white tulle had her ready to scream.

Which was why it was so unusual to see her staring down at a wedding account with such interest. This particular customer had gone a bit all out, giving them a mood booklet including fabric swatches, a number of dress photos, and a variety of draft save the dates

“What lovely fabric,” Dani says to herself quietly, stroking the page.

“What are you looking at there now,” Jaime screeches, clearly delighted. She nearly trips on a rogue pot as she rushes across the room.

Before she could grab the evidence, Dani slams the book closed, looked appalled at herself.

“Absolutely nothing! Don’t you have work to do?” she says, gripping the booklet tightly

“Are you mooning over weddings? Do you want to be a princess on your special day?” Jamie teases. “You know it’s the most important day of any woman’s life.”

“If we never do another wedding again I swear I’ll be the happiest woman on earth,” she says. “It’s all the propaganda I’m surrounded by. You and your brides are brainwashing me.”

“My brides?” asks Jamie. “Didn’t know I was running a harem.”

“Whatever,” Dani replies, hand diving into her pocket protectively. “You can’t make me like weddings.”

Before Jamie can rise to the challenge, the door chimes, and they jump apart. Dani drops the booklet on the desk, going over to greet the customer, their conversation echoing in her ears. She needs to get this wedding dress obsession in check, and fast. It’s become clear that she’s just not built for deception, and her anxiety is coming out in the strangest of ways.

Two weeks later, Dani finds a dying plant on the side of the road and has a terrible, brilliant idea. She needs to do this right, she thinks, toying with the ring in her pocket.

ix.

Jamie may not have said as much out loud, but she had been doing research for a long time. In a way, her time at Bly had all been research for an exam she didn’t know was coming. She had spent all those years living in the village, soaking in the rumors and the legends of the manor, each imbued with its own great tragedy. It had been training in a way, a training that had only quietly intensified as the woman she loved had been haunted by one of its specters. Besides, she had always loved a good story.

Still, none of that work prepares her for when she wakes up to another kick in the shins and a strange woman in her bed. Her eyes are wrong, but that’s not just it- it’s everything about how she holds herself, the way she moves. It’s clear that Dani is not there.

There’s also the screaming.

“Perdita?” the woman asks, enraged. “You loathsome little harlot! You wanton strumpet! You foul puppet of sister! I’ll kill you for what you did to my family!“

Jamie ducks from the avalanche of blows, rolling off the bed in the process. She manages to hit the lights from her position on the floor, which startles the woman enough to give Jamie a chance to stand up and speak.

“Now I don’t know precisely who you are, but I can promise you that I’m not your sister,” Jamie says, trying to channel a calmness and confidence that she absolutely does not feel. “My name is Jamie, and I live here.”

“I am Lady Viola of Bly Manor, which I should think you know already,”

“Lady Viola of the lake?” she asks.

“It was more of a pond, let’s be honest here. I should think you would know me by now, since I’ve taken up residence here for over a… for quite some time,” Lady Viola says, a bit confused but imperious all the same.

Jamie attempts to hide her wince. “Look,” she says, “you’ve taken over the body of someone I love very much. I would appreciate if you gave her back.”

“You’re taking this very well. I didn’t expect you to be this sharp,” says Lady Viola.

“I notice that’s not an answer,” she replies. “So why don’t you tell me what you’re doing here?”

“It’s easiest to cross over at the witching hour,” Lady Viola says. “I am no longer on mortal time.”

“All right,” says Jamie. “Well thank you for stopping by, I suppose. Could you please bring my Dani back?”

Lady Viola’s eyes cloud over, and her hand reaches out to grab Jamie’s. When her eyes open, it was all Dani, squeezing her hand as if to silently insist it was all going to be all right. She blinks again and Lady Viola is back.

“That was unexpected,” she says, shaking her head slightly. “That girl loves you very much, apparently.”

Jamie looks down at their still joined hands, ready to scream or cry. She’s not sure which yet. Might just have to open her mouth and find out.

“I was away for a long time,” the lady says, unaware or uncaring of Jamie’s forthcoming meltdown. “I don’t recall much of it, before Dani let me in. It was all very fragmented, very repetitive. A terrible routine.”

“A routine with an enormous amount of ritualized murder,” Jamie replies, trying to force anger in place of her fear.

“Apparently,” she acknowledges, a trace of remorse on her face. “Hard to be upset about scaring Perdita. She really brought it on herself; a life for a life, you know. The children that got in my way though, I’m sorry for them especially. I just wanted to see my Isabel, to bring her home with me. It was the only thing I could think of for all of those cold, wet years.”

“Well, that’s something,” Jamie says, if only to fill the sudden stretch of silence.

“It was nothing like being alive. Not really,” Lady Viola says eventually. “I couldn’t think. This is much better.”

“Hmm,” says Jamie, biting back a scream.

“Your Dani is wonderful. A bit too kind on some things, but much tougher than I thought. And she was lovely with those children. So much guilt though, and fear. I’ve been sending those awful apparitions of me away constantly- I’m sure I was never so nasty. All dripping and faceless,” she says, her face contorting. “And that spectacled gentleman, Eddie. So wan. I had consumption myself and was never half so malnourished.”

“You’ve got me there,” says Jamie, half hysterically. “Thank you for that, I suppose. For looking after her. How long do you intend on staying?”

Seeing her lips begin to shape around the word “forever”, Jamie quickly interjects, “That is to say, do you have any unfinished business we can handle?”

Viola sits shock still, clearly looking over something deep within herself, something long buried.

“You know what,” she says, slowly. “I do.”

Jamie waits, barely daring to breathe.

Finally, the Lady Viola says, “I need to rest. Let me think on this for a while. I will return.”

With that, her body sags back down, and Dani opens her beautiful, perfect eyes once more.

“Oh, thank god you’re back,” Jamie says, throwing herself on top of Dani. She covers her face in kisses, barely giving her a chance to speak.

“Of course I am,” says Dani, once Jamie pulls back slightly. 

“I’m always here,” she continues, planting a kiss on Jamie’s cheek. Then, suddenly, “Could you hear her?”

“Could _you_?” Jamie replies. “Because I was talking to someone who wasn’t you for ages. I’m glad you’re with me.”

“Bits and pieces,” Dani murmurs, clearly on the verge of falling asleep. “Fuzzy, like being in between radio stations. I don’t think she’s dangerous anymore though. I can feel her, deep down. She’s still mirroring me, but she’s happy. She likes you.”

“Well I like you,” says Jamie. “So stick around please. But Lady Viola isn’t all bad.”

“I like you too,” Dani says dreamily, then laughs.

“Hey. Hey, hey, hey,” she says, poking whatever parts of Jamie she could find. “Want to know a secret? I love you.”

“So touching darling,” Jamie says to Dani, already clearly asleep. Then, into the darkness, “I love you too.”

x.

That was the first of many late night talks. Lady Viola was a woman with many thoughts and even more opinions, which she loved to voice to any audience. This was generally Jamie, who bore it all with good grace. Waking up in the wee hours to listen to a medieval woman complain was infinitely preferable to ankle bruises, especially now that she was sure that Dani would always come back to her.

She felt bad keeping their conversations from Dani, or rather not knowing how much Dani could hear at any point. Jamie had started taking notes on their talks, which had been a brilliant idea, but soon abandoned when she realized how difficult it was to read in the morning. So she had invested in a tape recorder and switched recording their conversations, which she dutifully labelled every morning before handing it over to Dani. Their bedside table was filled with blank cassette tapes, bought in bulk, and only occasionally recorded over.

Their conversations were often meandering, though occasionally highly spirited, ranging from Viola’s past life to her recap of Dani’s day, to her opinions on the past few centuries. She was surprisingly into current music, and had managed to form strong opinions seemingly based solely on the scraps of songs that filtered through Dani’s mind. Sometimes Jamie told her what she knew about Bly Manor, about the history that was the future of Lady Viola’s family, but not often. It was too fragile a thing to discuss, even in the midnight hours.

Instead, Jamie would talk about the plants that they sold, the floral arrangements they put together for their clients. Viola would listen intently, insistent on finding ways to improve their business. Her mind, so long focused only on her revenge, was thrilled to focus on the minutiae of their finances. It was a worthy successor for her intellect to maintaining the estate, to the point where Jamie would redirect her to talk to Dani directly somehow, because she was really involved in the day to day running of accounts.

Eventually, they put together a plan, both for the literal business and the more figurative unfinished business. Over the weeks and weeks of idle talks, their mission came together, finding a way to restore Viola’s belongings, while also honoring her legacy and finding what shape her living family took today.

Each day, Jamie and Dani rose in the early morning, tired but happy, tentatively excited for their future in a way they hadn’t dared to before.

xi.

The manor stood, as beautiful and proud against the countryside as before. Though they knew that no spirits remained, not anymore, it was hard not to expect Flora and Miles to come running out from behind the hedges, for Hannah to appear. Despite the heaviness of memory, the air was lighter, more hopeful. It reminded Dani of her first glimpse of the manor, imbued with magic and quiet awe.

Their reminisces in the car had gradually dropped off to silence as they pulled up to the main house. As they wander over to the lake together, the stillness remains unbroken.

“It’s strange to be back here, after all this time,” Dani says.

Smiling at their joined hands, Jamie can't help but agree.

“Now promise me you’re not going to run headlong into the water as soon as you see it,” Jamie says, turning into Dani and fiddling with the ends of her scarf.

“For the thousandth time, of course I won’t,” Dani says with a smile.

“And does her highness promise as well?” Jamie persists.

Dani looks faraway for a minute, considering. “She prefers duchess, thank you ever so much. And she says she wouldn’t be caught dead in that two bit swamp again. She just wants her inheritance returned to her.”

“That’s my girl,” says Jamie, and both Viola and Dani preen.

As they finish their journey to the edge of the lake, they stop just in time to see the finale of the dredging of the lake. A local policeman greets them.

Henry had been more than willing to pull strings for them, from hiring some sort of radar team to enlisting a posse of scuba divers, but in the end it was dear old Owen, who had grown up in the village, that was able to get the local police on board. It was them, as well as a few local lads, who were in charge of finally clearing the lake after all these years.

“Crazy to think,” the local constable remarks, “all these bodies have just been sitting here for years. You would think the land owners would want them out, bad for property values.”

Dani huffed out a laugh, as Jamie intones, shaking her head, “Rich eccentrics.”

The constable nods, then says “Still, it’s for the best that they’ll finally be buried. Let them rest easy.”

“Yes, they’ve wandered long enough,” Dani agrees. “Hopefully, that will be an end to the tragedy here.”

The group waits, watching in solemn silence as the boys pulled finish their work. They stand, the three women holding hands, as one final chest is excavated. The golden crest sparkles brightly in the noontime sun, and Dani gasps out loud.

“It’s finally here,“ Viola says. Jamie squeezes her hand warningly, but Dani is back in a flash.

“S’pose it is,” says the constable, appraisingly. “That’s the loot Sir Henry wanted you to bring up to London?”

“Yes,” says Jamie. “We can sign off on whatever paperwork you have. Think the boys can help pack it in the car? We’ve got a tarp.”

That night, safely back in London, Jamie and Dani struggle to sneak the still damp chest past the concierge. They manage to casually maneuver into the elevator, barely containing their laughter until the doors close. From there on, all bets are off as they descend into hysterics, dragging the ancient package down the interminable hallway to their room. The door sticks, and both of them are useless with the keys as they can’t stop laughing. It takes an inordinate amount of pushing and shoving to position the chest in the middle of the room.

“Viola, I think it’s your time,” Jamie says, gasping, leaning against the closed door.

Dani’s eyes close for a moment, then Viola’s reopen. She kneels down, skirt pooling around her knees.

“Who knew it would take this long?” Viola asks no one in particular. She touches her finger to the lock, which falls away easily, and lifts the lid.

Jamie averts her eyes, half expects a blinding burst of light, Ark of Covenant style, or at the very least a warm golden glow. There’s nothing like that though, just an open box and a woman in front of it, one Jamie loves so well.

“Oh, Isabel,” Viola murmurs, clutching a shockingly well preserved and surprisingly bone dry dress to her chest, cradling it. Her shoulders relax, and if it wasn’t for the silent tears tracking down her face, Jamie would think her a statue.

After an interminable stretch of silence, Viola folds the dress up neatly, replacing it in the trunk. She runs her fingers down the fabrics, taking stock, before moving up to the smaller section containing her jewels.

“All present and accounted for,” Viola says, inventory completed. She pulls out her favorite dress, all indigo silk and sparkling silver thread, with a smile. Then, squinting at Jamie for a moment, she unearths a second dress in a deep emerald green and tossed it in her face. “Come on then, let’s have some fun!”

xi.

It was a beautiful afternoon in Paris, the hazy midsummer light illuminating their room. They may not have the funds for a direct view of the Eiffel Tower, but the city stretches out below them filled with promise none the less. It was their third day in Paris, which officially marked the longest time either of them had spent away since they had opened their store. After so many nightmares, it was as if they found themselves transported into a fairytale.

The trip had started with a reunion with the Wingrave family, and marveling at how big the children have grown. Dani and Jamie had visited before last Christmas, but they’ve grown like weeds in just a few short months, with formerly little Flora already threatening to overtake Jamie.

Even Owen had made an appearance, leaving his new restaurant in London for the weekend to wander the city with them. He had insisted on taking them on a culinary tour of his favorite spots, regaling them with tales of his time as a glorified dishwasher and the thrilling scrapes he had gotten himself into. The group had finally broken up with promises to reconvene for drinks at a suitable hour, after they collected themselves at their respective hotels.

Dani and Jamie had tumbled, exhausted, into the bright white sheets of their massive hotel bed, after a long hard day of wandering the streets for bread and pastries. The day before, they stopped by a florist at random, and Jamie had clearly been quietly grappling with the logistics of large scale smuggling in very small scale baggage ever since.

Dani rolls over, half on top of Jamie, who was still flopped on her back. Giggling slightly, she leans up and kisses her soundly on the nose.

“What’s all this, Poppins?” Jamie asks, scrunching her nose, but smiling all the same.

“Sometimes I just don’t know what to do,” Dani whispers, their noses touching. Jamie’s eyes cross trying to look up at her.

“With what?” she asks.

“All this happiness,” Dani replies, dropping down next to her. “I feel like I don’t deserve it, that I can’t have it after all I’ve done.”

“I didn’t think I could either,” Jamie confides. “But you make me believe it, every day.”

Sunlight glints off of Viola’s ruby hair clip, nested in Jamie’s hair, and off of the golden ring she never takes off her finger. Dani can’t contain her thrilled shiver. Her love beside her, her bounty restored, and her spirit, for once, unbound. Deep beneath her consciousness, Viola thrums in tune with her. For once, the two are in harmony in their perfect happiness. 

**Author's Note:**

> Embarrassing to admit, but this really owes so much to The Host by Stephanie Meyer, i.e. Mom says it's my turn with the body (the novel).


End file.
